The Unchronicled Adventures Of Ahsoka Tano, Book Ten

Chapter One Hundred And Seventeen: This Is A New Day

KANAN JARRUS

Kanan really hated this.

At first, he had been almost allowed himself to hope he could get better, despite the sinking feeling deep in his gut that his sight was gone for good. But even after a series of intensive bacta treatments, the tests had still come out the same: no response whatsoever to changes in light or color.

He was completely blind, and trying to adjust was nearly impossible.

So far, he had accused the rest of the crew at least five times now of moving the furniture (even while almost all of it was soldered to the floor), lifted countless spoonfuls of food to his chin or nose instead of his mouth, had several unbearably humiliating 'fresher experiences and nearly fallen down every single access hatch in the ship at least twice while trying to create a mental map of the corridors.

Once, he had even come close to sending the ship banking down into a planet's atmosphere mid-flight (without the thermal shields) when he had tripped on a rut in the floor and stumbled back onto the controls. After nearly three weeks of all this, he was beginning to wonder if there was anything he couldn't mess up.

At least he had made some progress along with all his crazy blunders. He now knew how to differentiate each crewmember coming down the hall by the sound of their steps – a skill he had never needed before, but was very glad to have now.

Zeb's steps were heavy thumps with two parts: a light tap as his toes hit the ground and then a fuller one from the heel. Ezra's were flighty and quick, as though he were ready at any moment to take off running. Sabine made every step count and the thuds of her boots against the floor rarely wandered from the same steady beat. Obviously, Chopper sounded like wheels against metal, often accompanied by the faint whirr of the motors working to propel him.

Hera's footfalls were soft, but almost poignant, as though she always had a direction and a purpose. It was hers that Kanan heard outside his door now.

"Kanan," she called softly, "there's a message for you from off-world."

"Who from?" he asked as she took a few steps forward, and, suddenly conscious of the fact that his hair was probably a scraggly mess, he began patting his bed covers down for his hair tie.

"It didn't say. I think the sender was encrypted along with the rest of the message." She pressed him the missing hair tie into his palm, and Kanan tried to hide a jolt of surprise when she sat down next to him on the bed without warning.

"Is it decoding? What does it say?"

"Let me pull it up. This datapad is a little slow. Okay, here it is." She cleared her throat and shifted a little, then began: "Greetings, Caleb Dume. My compliments to you and the rest of the Ghost crew." Hera mumbled something to herself Kanan didn't catch, then seemed to see his perplexed expression and repeated, "Caleb Dume? How does someone know your real name?"

Kanan shook his head. "I don't know; it's not like I've told anyone. Read the rest – maybe something further down will make more sense."

"It's still decrypting... hang on a second."

'Anyone' was a general term, though Kanan didn't tell Hera that. But while he had probably told a few people and forgotten, the list was definitely still a short one with few real options to choose from. He furrowed his brow reflexively, then winced at how much pain it caused the wound that was only just beginning to scar over.

Hera noticed, and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Although he couldn't see it on her face, he could feel her concern plainly through the Force. "Kanan, you're still recovering. You need rest, and probably another bacta treatment or two."